


you're fire, but sweet

by shamusiel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: (i guess theres sort of a plot if you squint), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Trans Male Character, i really dont know what else to tag it with its just PORN, uhhh wrathion takes dick and cries after sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17147927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamusiel/pseuds/shamusiel
Summary: It is why now, he hands control over to the king, allows him to do as he pleases whereas if it were anyone else Wrathion would have already flipped positions and taken charge. But it is not anyone else, it is Anduin, it has always been Anduin and will onlyeverbe Anduin.





	you're fire, but sweet

It’s slow, in a way you wouldn’t expect from two lovers that have been separated for what feels like too long. It was only a few weeks, but those few weeks were filled with fear, anticipation, stress; the worry that something would go awry, and they would never be able to see one another again. Wrathion could not bear the thought, it was a constant dark cloud over his head: Anduin, in Horde territory, vulnerable with only a few guards with him. Peace talks, as if that had ever worked.

The king had returned to Stormwind late that night, his arrival a quiet one, his entrance into the royal chambers where Wrathion attempted to sleep even quieter. The dragon had been roused from his light slumber by even the softest of footsteps, and upon sight of Anduin had moved seemingly on autopilot. Crawled out of bed and met him halfway, fingers clutching the front of his coat, Anduin’s hands finding their usual place on Wrathion’s waist.

They don’t speak, not at first. They kiss instead, gentle and slow, with Wrathion’s hands working on the buttons of Anduin’s coat. Popped open, one by one, his hands deft, having repeated this same action over and over for what feels like hundreds of times. In turn, Anduin’s hands find themselves at the front of Wrathion’s shirt. It’s all the dragon wears, too big on him, hanging well past his hips - Anduin’s shirt, a comfort in the absence of the king himself.

“This is mine,” Anduin murmurs, amused.

Wrathion sighs dreamily, eyes half-closed. “That it is.”

“You’ve been wearing it?” Anduin takes a step forward, then another, slowly backing Wrathion towards the bed. Wrathion moves along with him easily, gladly even, pushing his coat from his shoulders.

“Yes, every night.” The dragon presses a kiss to his jaw.

“ _Every_ night?” Anduin’s fingers work on the buttons, gradual, exposing dark skin bit by bit as his hands move further and further down.

“Are you going to tease me about it, then?” Wrathion grumbles. “Now, of all times?”

“No, but maybe later.”

The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he plops down and wiggles further back as Anduin kneels on the edge, hovering over him. Wrathion blinks up at him, his hands coming back up to work at the rest of the layers of Anduin’s clothing. Too much, he thinks, and it is a little annoying and if he doesn’t work fast enough, it might very well ruin the mood.

Luckily for him, Anduin pulls his hands back to help Wrathion with removing his clothing, tossing it carelessly somewhere on the floor. The dragon’s hands run along bare arms, up to broad shoulders to then cradle the back of his neck. He thinks, not for the first time, just how lovely Anduin is; both in appearances and in personality. And he thinks, again not for the first time, that he is rather undeserving of such a pure light in his life. It is not an insecurity he thinks he will ever express aloud, for fear of vulnerability.

But with Anduin he knows he _can_ be vulnerable, as terrifying as the thought may be. It is why now, he hands control over to the king, allows him to do as he pleases whereas if it were anyone else Wrathion would have already flipped positions and taken charge. But it is not anyone else, it is Anduin, it has always been Anduin and will only _ever_ be Anduin.

He becomes acutely aware of the burning heat growing between his legs, the dampness forming in his smallclothes. Anduin is undoing the buckle of his heavy belt, letting it slip from his hips and onto the floor, and he toes off his boots before clambering fully onto the bed. Wrathion lies back and Anduin dips his head down again. The dragon moves to meet him, but makes a slight miscalculation and causes their noses to bump together and lips to squish awkwardly.

Anduin laughs first, and it’s such a light, beautiful sound that entrances him, like a siren’s song, and it is so contagious that he cannot help but laugh along with it. They try again, better this time, mouths fitting together with ease.

Warm hands push the shirt from his shoulders entirely, exposing him more to the air of the room -- slightly chilly, and he wonders in the back of his mind if one of the windows is open. His nipples stiffen, his bare chest beginning to heave, his breathing taking on a slight quiver when Anduin’s hands begin to explore his bare skin. Pressing kisses from his lips, down to his jaw, his neck, his shoulder---a soft bite, a little lick, and it’s enough to make Wrathion’s nerves feel like they are aflame.

He can feel Anduin’s interest straining through his trousers, up against his thigh. In response, his own heat aches unbearably. Wrathion’s hands fly down to his smallclothes, wiggling them past his hips and down his thighs, Anduin kind enough to help him pull them off all the way.

They kiss again, and it’s hungrier this time; more fervent, needier, as if everything pent up from the past few weeks was suddenly flooding out. Anduin squeezes Wrathion’s waist, while Wrathion cradles the back of his head with one hand, his neck with the other. Their tongues roll together and Wrathion sighs into his mouth.

“Anduin…” he murmurs, hand sliding from the king’s neck to settle on his cheek. There is a pleasant pink flush to Anduin’s cheeks, his blue eyes are shining, his fair hair a mess from Wrathion’s hands. Beautiful, he’s _beautiful_. “I love you.”

Anduin pauses, processing the words, words he hardly hears Wrathion say because Wrathion always prefers to _show_ , and then his face splits open in a grin as bright as the sun.

“I love you, too!” And he dives back in for a kiss, laughing into Wrathion’s mouth, Wrathion laughing as well. The laughter breaks off into a moan when Anduin’s hand grips onto one of his thighs, tugging his leg over his hip, his still-clothed erection rutting between Wrathion’s thighs.

He sucks in his bottom lip, eyes screwed shut, head dropping and lips latching onto Anduin’s shoulder to suck a mark into his skin. He breaks away only when Anduin moves, ducks his own head down to dot kisses along his collarbone, down to his chest where he squeezes one breast and teases the brown nipple with a forefinger and thumb, his mouth wrapping around the other. Wrathion hisses through his teeth, head dropping back against the pillows, his hips jerking. He rakes his nails along Anduin’s shoulders, leaving behind little pink marks that don’t take long to fade.

There is the barest hint of teeth against the sensitive skin that makes him jolt and let out a rather embarrassing whine. Wrathion hears, and feels, Anduin laugh against his skin, but chooses not to comment on it, but his ears burn with embarrassment. Not that Anduin would judge him, of course, but _still._

Anduin moves on, kissing down his belly, tongue circling his navel, and when Wrathion thinks he’s about to put his head between his thighs he moves up again, catching him in another kiss. It’s infuriating, Anduin depriving him of what he wants the most in that moment, but the thought is immediately silenced when a hand travels between his legs and a finger teases between his folds. In response, his hips buck, and Anduin snickers.

“What’s so funny?” Wrathion mutters.

“Nothing, it’s just...” Anduin meets his gaze. “You’re… really cute.”

“ _Cute_ ?” The dragon replies incredulously. “Isn’t that a little juve-- _ahh_ \--”

He’s cut off by a high-pitched moan when Anduin presses the finger inside and Wrathion clenches around it. It pushes in and out of him slowly, earning punched-out little gasps from the dragon, and is soon joined by a second. It makes him spread his legs a little wider, makes his breath come out a little shorter, makes him leak a little bit onto the sheets beneath him.

Anduin fucks his fingers in at a steady pace, curling them in a way that makes Wrathion squirm. The king rests his brow against the dragon’s, and he sees even Anduin’s own breathing has quickened. His cock still strains against his trousers, Wrathion can see it when he peers down between them, and even in his haze, he reaches down to fumble with buttons and laces. Anduin manages to help him, clumsily with one hand, pushing them down his hips enough for his cock to spring free from his trousers and smallclothes beneath. He sighs with relief. Wrathion practically salivates at the sight, and he thinks that he’d like to have it in his mouth _sooner_ rather than later.

However, Anduin evidently had other plans; other plans that Wrathion wasn’t going to object to, of course, considering he was trailing back down the dragon’s body and finally settling properly between his legs. One arm wraps around Wrathion’s thigh to keep it in place, the fingers of his other hand spreading Wrathion’s damp folds. Still, he does not put his lips there yet, instead choosing to kiss the inside of his thighs, around his aching heat and so painfully close, nosing against the small patch of dark hair.

Wrathion trembles, shooting one hand down to grasp at Anduin’s hair and give a sharp _tug_ that makes Anduin _moan_. It’s enough to make the king get a move on because in the next moment he’s pressing his mouth against Wrathion’s center and Wrathion is arching his back off of the bed. A gasp spills forth from his lips, followed by a long moan as Anduin drags his tongue up in a slow stroke, lips brushing against his clit but not lingering there too long just yet.

He gets lost in the feeling, with his free hand grasping at the bedsheets, his head tilting back and the tips of his horns hitting the headboard. There is drool forming at the corner of his parted lips, and his thighs tremble. Times like this, he hates how sensitive he is, how easily overstimulated he is because he already feels so close and they’ve only just started. Anduin has slipped one finger back inside of him as his mouth works, and it feels like an overload in his brain and his body.

“Fffuu--ha _a_ \--A-Andu _in_ \--” he wheezes, hips bucking against his lover’s mouth. Anduin smiles against him, devious, and Wrathion has half the mind to kick him for it but the thought is wiped away quickly when his clit is taken into the king’s mouth and given a hard suck.

Wrathion practically thrashes, and Anduin has to slip his fingers out and use both arms to keep a tight hold on Wrathion’s thighs to keep him still. Wrathion’s hand shoots up to his mouth, clamping over it in an attempt to muffle himself when he knows he doesn’t _have_ to around Anduin. The walls around them are stone, very little sound will escape past them, and Anduin won’t judge him for being loud but it’s still so _embarrassing_ , no matter how many times they do this.

His brows knit tightly together and he bites down hard on his palm. Anduin pauses then, lifting his head, his lips slick with saliva and Wrathion’s release.

“Please, Wrathion, I want to hear you,” he says, so tenderly, so genuinely that Wrathion can’t help but drop his hand from his mouth and instead curl it against his chest. Anduin smiles, then dips his head back down.

He still finds himself trying to bite down on his lip to muffle himself, but he catches himself just in time. Wrathion feels Anduin moan against him, sees the king’s hips rut against the bed as he eats him out, and he feels so _dizzy_.

It only takes one more hard suck to his clit to make sparks explode down his spine, to make him white out, to make him let out a choked-off shout as he comes, rocking himself back on Anduin’s mouth desperately to ride out his high. Anduin pulls his head back, slowly sits up and runs his hands soothingly along Wrathion’s bare thighs. Shushing him, pressing kisses to his jaw as Wrathion whimpers and shakes even well after his orgasm passes.

After a few long moments of them saying nothing, Anduin murmurs, “Do you want to stop now?”

Wrathion blinks, raises his brows, tries to even out his shallow breaths and calm his pounding heart. _Stop_? Why would he want to stop, when they’ve only just begun? Wrathion will recover quickly, Anduin knows this. In the meantime...

“That’s a stupid question,” he manages. “No, I don’t. I just need-- a moment. So…”

The dragon surges up with only the assistance of his abdominal muscle, practically knocking Anduin off of him, but Anduin catches himself.

“Sit back, let me…” He doesn’t even have to continue his sentence, because Anduin is nodding and sitting himself down properly on the bed, kicking his trousers all the way off. Wrathion moves onto his knees, then lowers himself down onto his belly. He rests his elbow on Anduin’s thigh while he reaches toward his cock, fingers wrapping around it, the hot skin feeling like it could burn his palm. Wrathion’s hand moves up, thumb swiping over the tip to gather the small bit of pre-come there, then leans in.

Wrathion kisses the base of his cock first, presses slow, open-mouthed kisses up the rest of the length, swiping his tongue out every so often. He peers up at Anduin through his eyelashes the whole time, and Anduin never breaks his gaze. Anduin’s pupils have dilated wide, leaving only a thin strip of blue around them, and it makes Wrathion smile against him.

A hand settles in his dark curls, fingers pushing through them, and Wrathion practically purrs in delight. When he envelops the head of Anduin’s cock with his hot, hot mouth, the king chokes out a moan. As he sinks further down, he is ever vigilant of his fangs and not accidentally hurting Anduin with them. The slightest brush of them against the sensitive skin every so often always seems appreciated, however.

As he sucks Anduin’s cock the throbbing between his legs begins to return, its intensity increased. Wrathion leaks onto the sheets, the insides of his thighs are damp, and he jerks his hips without really thinking about it, subconsciously looking for some kind of stimulation. Anduin laughs weakly above him through his own moans, fingers clenching tight into Wrathion’s hair. Wrathion uses one hand to stroke Anduin’s cock as he bobs his head, and he nearly shoves the other between his own legs. The only thing stopping him is the risk of coming again due to accidentally overstimulating himself.

“Anduin,” he sighs when he pulls off of his cock, peppering kisses down the length as he strokes it. Anduin looks like a wreck above him, Wrathion nearly preens knowing he was the one to reduce him to such a state. “I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Anduin tenses up then, suddenly, the muscle in his thighs clenching and Wrathion blinks when something warm hits his face.

“Ah? Did you just--”

“Yes,” Anduin says weakly, looking more than a little embarrassed.

Wrathion’s brows raise, and he can’t help but laugh as he resumes pumping the rest of Anduin’s come out, opening his mouth to bring it in and swallow it without hesitation. Anduin watches him close the entire time, his breathing harsh. Wrathion winks with a little grin, sits up slowly.

“You usually last longer than that,” the dragon points out, leaning over the bedside to find the tissues so he can wipe the come from his face. Anduin seems content to clean Wrathion off for him, his touch gentle.

“It’s been a while!” Anduin defends. “And I… wasn’t expecting you to say… that.”

“What, that I can’t wait to feel you inside of me?” And with that, Anduin’s softening cock twitches again with interest. Wrathion snickers, hands resting on Anduin’s shoulders before he winds his arms around his neck. Anduin cradles his cheek while his other hand rests on the small of Wrathion’s back, giving a subtle push to guide Wrathion into his lap.

They kiss again, for a little while, as Anduin steadily hardens once more. Wrathion can feel it against his leg, so close to where he desperately wants it. And he can’t decide how he wants it: slow and tender, or hard and desperate? He’ll make up his mind once he has it inside of him. For now, he kisses Anduin slowly, one hand fumbling with the hair tie and letting Anduin’s hair fall free. It’s grown a little longer, further past his jawline and brushing against his shoulders. Wrathion gives it a little tug.

Anduin’s hands drop to Wrathion’s thighs, squeezing. He’s hard against his leg now, hot and heavy and leaking, and Wrathion smiles in a way that might have seemed pleasant if it were not so devious.

“My king,” he practically drawls, a rumbling purr at the edge of his voice. Their bare chests press together, heartbeats thudding in tandem. “Are you ready?”

Anduin inhales deep, drops a hand between them to take hold of the base of his cock. “Are _you_?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Wrathion replies, wiggling a little in Anduin’s lap before rising up on his knees to straddle him. The dragon clutches onto Anduin's shoulders and he feels the head of his cock slip over his clit, making him jolt, then between his folds. It doesn’t press in just yet, much to his annoyance.

He grinds his hips down and Anduin gives a surprised moan. “Hurry _up_ ,” Wrathion demands, petulant.

“I was just making sure,” Anduin says, nosing against Wrathion’s cheek. And he’s so painfully sweet and thoughtful and, oh Light, Wrathion really does not deserve someone as kind as he is. Who loves as deeply as he does ( even though Wrathion knows he loves just as deep - he only expresses it differently ), who gives himself over so wholly.

When Anduin guides his cock inside Wrathion immediately bears down in welcome and they both moan. Anduin's hands fly back to Wrathion's hips, fingers rubbing into the dark skin soothingly. The dragon just sits there on his knees for a moment, getting used to the intrusion, processing it, then letting out a shuddering sigh when he feels the steady throb inside of him.

He slowly pushes himself further down, Anduin helping with his hands on his hips. Wrathion slips his hands up to Anduin's neck and leans his head in. Their lips meet, long and languid, Wrathion whimpering and panting into Anduin's mouth, the sounds soft.

When his rear meets Anduin’s thighs, he pauses again. Blue eyes stare into his, wide and shining and _adoring_. Wrathion wants to kiss him silly, so he does, and they both break out into little giggles into it that break off into moans when Wrathion lifts himself up, then lowers himself back down.

Slowly, carefully, getting used to the feeling again. Wrathion keeps one hand on Anduin's nape, while the other rests on his shoulder. Anduin presses his nose to Wrathion's cheek and keeps a firm grip on his thighs. Their breathing is hard, sounds soft as they take it slow - for the time being.

Wrathion’s hand slides down from Anduin's shoulder to a scar etched into the skin of Anduin's chest, then further down to one stretching across his ribs. There is another, on Anduin's brow, at the corner of his lips - a reminder of things that happened years before, things he would rather not think of right now, but the scars are part of Anduin and he has learned to wear them with pride.

His thumb runs over the edge of the one on Anduin's ribs, eliciting a shiver from the king. Wrathion's thighs quiver, he rises back up slowly then drops back down and gasps when Anduin suddenly bucks his hips up to meet him. A strong arm circles around his waist, one hand grasps his thigh, and within a moment their position changes.

Wrathion is empty suddenly, clenching around nothing, and he lets out an indignant sound. But Anduin moves quickly, pulls Wrathion's leg over his hip and guides himself back in. The dragon clings tightly onto him, nails digging into his skin, and he bites down onto his shoulder as Anduin pants against his ear.

“Wrathion,” Anduin whimpers. “Wrathion, you feel so good.”

“Ah--” Wrathion releases Anduin's shoulder with a moan. “Anduin, y-y-you-- I-I-I-- f-f _uck_ …!”

When Anduin rises up, one of his hands reaches up, grasps at the headboard. His grip is white-knuckled, the veins in his arm standing out and muscle shifting beneath the skin. His other hand takes hold of Wrathion's, their fingers lacing together against the pillows.

“Does it-- does it feel good for you?” Anduin asks softly, dipping his head down so he can press their brows together. It’s so painfully sweet, so painfully considerate. Even now, Anduin never loses his kindness; they could be as rough as they like, and somehow Anduin would still find a way to be gentle. Wrathion gives his hand a squeeze and nods rapidly, lips quivering, moving silently as he struggles to find his voice.

“Yes,” he manages weakly. “ _Yes_ , yes, it-- a-ah-- it does. D-d-don’t--” he chokes on a moan, eyes screwing shut.

“Don’t…?” Anduin bumps their noses together. He’s panting heavily, Wrathion can feel it against his face, but his movements have slowed, irritatingly enough. “Wrathion, look at me.”

“Don’t--” Wrathion’s free hand smacks at Anduin’s shoulder, his heels kick at the sheets, and his brows furrow, eyes snapping open. “Don’t stop. Please. Please, m- _move_!”

He sees Anduin smile and scrunches his nose in annoyance, but Anduin kisses that expression right off his face. Wrathion’s hand rests on his cheek, thumb pressing against the scar at the corner of his lips when they kiss. His tongue presses back into Anduin’s mouth, and he pants hotly into it, back arching off of the bed. Anduin’s hand drops from the headboard, slipping beneath Wrathion’s back.

The feeling is getting overwhelming, Wrathion can hardly control any of the noises coming out of his mouth. Anduin holds onto his hand tight and he squeezes just as tight. It keeps him grounded, as dizzy as he feels. There is a speck of drool forming at the corner of his mouth, he swipes his tongue out to lick it away.

He comes again, once, with a weak cry, but Anduin fucks him right through it. He slows, briefly, letting Wrathion come back to his senses before picking up the pace once more. Wrathion’s eyes feel wet, from the intensity of their emotions, from the white-hot pleasure rolling through his body. When Anduin speaks again, he hardly processes it until the king stops.

“Nnh…?”

“Roll over, please,” Anduin repeats, slipping out of Wrathion, his cock leaking heavily of pre-come. The hand in his own releases its hold and Anduin uses the one at his back to guide him up and roll him over. His hips are raised off of the bed and Anduin leans over him, kisses his nape and nuzzles into his hair, then pushes back inside of him.

Wrathion groans when Anduin gives a sharp thrust, then sets a quick and nearly brutal pace. Wrathion thinks, distantly, that he hopes Anduin isn’t pushing himself too much. It can’t be good for his body, he might be terribly sore later. But his mind goes reeling when Anduin finally snakes a hand around and finds his sorely neglected clit. Warm fingers rub practiced circles against it, and Wrathion slaps his hands against the pillows and headboard, just about sobbing. His next orgasm is already building up quickly, but he does his damnedest to fight it.

But Anduin makes it so hard with his hands, with his hips, with his voice, moaning above him.

Another hand travels along Wrathion’s quivering abdomen, up to his chest where he squeezes his breasts as they heave with each breath that Wrathion takes. Anduin pushes Wrathion’s upper body up, leaving him only supported on his knees, and Wrathion scrambles for something to hold onto. He settles on gripping Anduin’s forearm with one hand, the other reaching behind him to grip onto the king’s hair. Anduin drops his head forward against Wrathion’s shoulder, blonde hair spilling over dark skin, and he whines loudly. A sound Wrathion recognizes: a warning that Anduin is close, very close. Excellent timing, too, because one more hard thrust has Wrathion falling over the edge again.

His third orgasm that night hits him just as hard as the rest and the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely onto the bed is Anduin’s hold on him. Wrathion gasps out his name over and over, like a mantra, his voice hoarse. He swears he blacks out for a moment but quickly comes to. Anduin’s thrusts are growing uncoordinated, sloppy.

“Wrathion, can--” Anduin swallows thickly. “Can I come?”

Funny, _endearing_ , how Anduin still thinks he needs permission after all this time. Wrathion lets out a weak laugh, grins out of the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

“Inside?”

“Yes.”

Anduin nods against his shoulder, breathes in, gives a few more thrusts then freezes up as he comes with a shout. His grip on Wrathion is almost bruising at that moment and the dragon feels something warm spilling inside of him. Two more final thrusts are given, Anduin groaning with effort, and he finally pulls out and is kind enough to help Wrathion lie back down instead of collapsing onto the bed on his own.

He’s well aware of the fat, hot tears in his eyes that have begun to roll down his face. They aren’t bad tears, quite the opposite, but are nevertheless still irritating to deal with. It happens every time they have sex, Wrathion can’t really help it, but he still wipes at his eyes stubbornly in an attempt to get them to stop. He rolls slowly onto his back, shuddering at the feeling of come leaking out of him. Anduin is blinking blearily down at him, his blonde hair creating a curtain around his face.

The tears are kissed away slowly, which turns into Anduin peppering kisses all over Wrathion’s face and Wrathion letting out a squawk and pushing at the king’s shoulders to get him to stop. Not that he _really_ wants Anduin to stop, of course.

Then Anduin finally flops down next to him. Wrathion isn’t prepared to sleep just yet, he’d rather clean himself off and use the toilet first, but chooses to bask in the afterglow for now. One hand runs up his belly to his chest, where he scratches at the skin idly. Anduin drapes an arm over his middle, kisses his shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Wrathion finally asks after a minute of silence.

“Fine,” Anduin replies, and then follows it with, “A little sore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Anduin laughs breathlessly. Shattering every bone in your body is bound to leave some lasting effects, after all, and he would be sore no matter if he pushed himself or not.

Wrathion just nods, turns his head to meet Anduin in a brief kiss.

“Anduin,” he sighs, one hand reaching over to brush through his long hair. “I missed you. I’m glad you are home, in one piece.”

“Did you worry?”

“Every day,” Wrathion admits, and Anduin smiles.

“I missed you, too, Wrathion.”

And he can’t help his own smile. They are silent for another minute before Wrathion decides he’s grown tired of the sweat on his body and his sticky release against his thighs. He grumbles, patting at Anduin’s hip.

“Bath,” he mutters out. “Carry me.”

Anduin cracks one eye open and huffs out a laugh. He sits up. “You can’t walk?”

“Not after everything you just did,” Wrathion replies simply. Anduin rolls his eyes but doesn’t complain, just smirking as he hauls Wrathion into his arms.

“Did you gain weight?”

“Shut _up_.”

**Author's Note:**

> i walk into the wranduin fandom, i post porn, and i run
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/wrthion)  
> [tumblr](http://hellfirecitadel.tumblr.com)


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